


Slow Dancing while dismantling Systems of Oppression

by boredom



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fall of the Berlin Wall, Love, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sappy, Slow Dancing, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredom/pseuds/boredom
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley meet up at the Berlin Wall and partake in some soft dancing.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Slow Dancing while dismantling Systems of Oppression

**Author's Note:**

> The number of stories that involve Crowley and Aziraphale dancing in some way is starting to get worrisome. I wonder if this is my subconscious telling me to find myself a Crowley to slow dance with me at the drop of a hat. Any takers?
> 
> Also note, this Aziraphale and Crowley are much closer to their book counterparts. In the book, they debate a lot more and it’s a lot less tense so if they seem OOC from the show, they are more in line with the book versions.

Aziraphale smiled as he sat on a pile of rubble covered in graffiti. To his right and left, people were cheering as sledgehammers smashed into the concrete that had stood as a monument to dictatorships and separations for so long. Not to him, of course. The period the Berlin Wall occupied in his life was barely a blink. But to these humans, it was a shadow that had stayed for far too long in their lives. Families separated, friends and lovers ripped away from one another. It was horrific. 

Normally, Aziraphale would not be one for the destruction of property or graffiti, but he felt in this case it was well deserved. 

More cheers as another section smashed to the group. A group of youths were still sitting on a tall remaining section of the wall. A small miracle ensured they wouldn’t get hurt today. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. There was passion, love, happiness, joy, and most importantly of all, hope. A little to his left, an older man had his arms wrapped around a younger woman. A father who hadn’t seen his daughter in decades, sobbing as he held her. The last time he had seen her, she had been barely five years old. All over the city, scenes like this were happening. It made Aziraphale’s heart flutter

“This spot taken?” 

He smiled and looked up at Crowley. “Come to spread some mischief?” 

Crowley seemed to take that as a yes (Aziraphale wouldn’t tell him no) and plopped down next to him. “Couldn’t find a nice bench or something, angel? Had to sit on rubble. You’ll probably get tetanus with all this rebar sticking out.”

He tutted. “Nonsense. Angels can’t get tetanus. Besides, I wanted to be surrounded by all the hope in the air. It’s intoxicating.” 

“As intoxicating as a—” Crowley lifted up a bottle of wine and squinted at the label. “A 1948 Cabernet Sauvignon?” 

“Only if you have proper glasses.” 

With a flourish, Crowley produced two wine glasses and handed one to him. “Picky angel.” 

“I have standards,” Aziraphale huffed. He swirled the wine in the glass and took a sip. 

“I know, I know. You don’t think I’d ever dare to give you something lower than your standards.” Crowley was grinning at him. Even with his dark glasses, Aziraphale could see the teasing and playful light in his eyes. 

He chuckled. “If you’re not spreading mischief, then what are you doing here?” 

“Who says I’m not spreading mischief?” Crowley gestured to the destruction that was happening around them as well as the drunken revelry many humans had started to partake in. 

“Destruction of property. And look—” he pointed to a young couple kissing passionately on the ground. “Those two are going to have premarital sex. And that one’s got a tattoo.” 

“Really? A tattoo is the best you could come up with?” He shook his head fondly. 

“It’s written somewhere in the Bible. Thou shalt not have a tattoo. Pretty sure it’s the eleventh commandment.” 

“It’s actually written in Leviticus, not in Exodus.” 

“Whatever, my point still stands. There is sin to be had here, angel!” He spread his arms, grinning as the wall continued to come down in pieces. 

“Lazy serpent, you’ll do anything not to work.” There was no bite to his word. Aziraphale had started to adopt Crowley’s more ‘hands-off’ approach decades ago. He was a bad influence, but Heaven never seemed to care and his miracles never seemed to change the outcome that much. 

“Does your lot approve of this?” Crowley refilled his wine glass. 

“Of course. Hope, joy, kindness, the end of a terrible regime. I’m surprised you’re not doing more to tip the balance back in your favor.” 

He shook his head. “Sorry, angel. A lot of these seeds have been laid for decades now. The USSR may be no more, but the Cold war will continue to have effects for a long time. Unless humans get their act together. Got my eye on some groups in the Middle East. I need to know what they’re up to so I can take credit when I need to.”

“You’re such a pessimist.” Aziraphale shook his head. “We’ve been steadily moving towards a more accepting world each year. Problems are starting to be addressed. People are getting educated. Denmark’s done remarkable things when it comes to social welfare and great strides are being made in global education.” 

Crowley waved a hand at him. “Mark my words, angel, the humans will find some way to bugger it all up. It’s what they’re good at. That’s why we don’t need to do anything.” 

Aziraphale smiled. He enjoyed these talks with Crowley. It was fun to find someone actually willing to debate him on these subjects. The angels in Heaven were so focused on their Mission, it was hard to get them to think outside of the box. Besides, while Crowley would never admit it, he was an optimist, deep down. He put up this front of pessimism but he did think things would work out for the better. It was that spark of goodness that made Aziraphale fall in love with him in the first place. 

They sat in the rubble, shoulder to shoulder, hands touching as they sipped their wine and continued to listen to the cheers and absorb the feelings of love that swirled around them. 

“Now there’s an activity we could do,” Crowley said, nodding towards some couples dancing on top of the Berlin Wall. 

“I don’t dance, my dear.” Aziraphale sipped his wine and tried not to make eye contact with Crowley. 

“Please, I know you attended a certain discreet gentlemen’s club during my nap. And I know what you got up to in that club.” 

He blushed. “All I know if the Gavotte. Besides, you also don’t dance.” 

“I dance.” 

“I wouldn’t call flailing your arms and legs as if you’ve never learned proper motor function, ‘dancing’.” 

“I’m going to make it catch on,” Crowley said, a tad defensively. 

“I’m sure, darling.” 

“I got a few kids into it back in California a few years back. Almost got the crap kicked out of me when I accidentally hit some punk in the face. Quick thinking, angel, I used the quickest thinking I could and told him it was called ‘slamming’.” 

“Slamming?” Aziraphale laughed. 

“That’s right, slamming. I heard it’s making its rounds in the punk scene and with this new music project I got cooking in Seattle, I’ll never again be called a bad dancer.” 

“I’m not slamming with you,” Aziraphale said, continuing to giggle at the thought of Crowley trying to explain to some human that his awkward flailing was indeed some sort of newfangled dance.

“No, I’m not asking you to slam dance with me. That’s not romantic. This is romantic dancing.” 

“Romantic dancing on top of a symbol of communist-branded fascism?” 

Crowley miracled the wine glasses away with a snap and got to his feet. He held out his hand for Aziraphale to take with the softest, soppiest smile on his face. “Can you think of anything more romantic than dismantling systems of oppression?” 

He sighed and took Crowley’s hand. “My dear, I don’t think I can.” 

Crowley pulled him up to a (miraculously) empty section of the wall that was still standing. He snapped his fingers. 

“What was that for?” 

“Make sure the wall doesn’t come tumbling down with us on it.” 

Another snap of the fingers. “And that one was to make sure no one pays us that much attention.” 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Two man-shaped beings dancing romantically, angel? Systems of oppression haven’t fallen that much.” There was a bitterness to his voice. 

Aziraphale smiled at his and put his arms around his neck. “I’m glad I get to share this moment with you, my dear.” 

Crowley grinned and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Me too, angel. It’s been a while.” They started swaying back and forth to music that wasn’t actually there, spinning slowly in a circle as the sounds of the people faded to silence.

“Far too long. The Cold War’s kept us busy,” he said. 

Crowley, being a snake, was never fully warm. His body was always slightly chilled. No matter, it was a perfect excuse to cuddle up next to his beloved. 

“Missed you, angel.” Crowley pulled him close. 

Aziraphale felt his tongue flick next to his ear. He snickered. “Has my scent changed, dear?” 

“Not one bit. Just reminding myself. Trying to get as much of you as possible.” 

“We could go out to dinner afterward. I hear there’s this great little Turkish place not far from here.” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

It was perfect. Dancing up here with Crowley, it felt like they were the only two beings in the universe. He could feel Crowley’s essence entangling with his own. He could smell Crowley’s scent, the slight hint of brimstone and smoke. He could feel Crowley’s chest rise and fall with each breath he took. 

Crowley’s hands were still wrapped around his waist and he was humming softly. Aziraphale still hadn’t gotten into modern music so while he was sure Crowley was humming some tune that was an actual song, he couldn’t place it. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and let Crowley continue to rock them in a circle. 

They could have been up there for hours, days, weeks even. Aziraphale didn’t care. Even knowing Crowley for six thousand years, he still felt as though he could never get enough. 

Still, that Turkish restaurant sounded really good. And they could always continue this back at the bookshop with some actual music and maybe a bit of lovemaking afterward. He wanted to feel Crowley’s hands on him. He wanted to become one once more after so long. 

“Crowley, dear—” 

There was a tingle in the back of his mind. Heaven was calling. 

He let out a groan. 

“You got it too?” Crowley chuckled, pulling back. 

“Must be urgent if they’re trying to contact me this way.” 

He nodded. “Usually they wait until I’m near a radio or something. Dagon’s really gotten into impressions.” He stepped away from him. 

Aziraphale shivered at the loss of Crowley’s body. 

Crowley gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Next time, angel?” He was smiling sadly. So long as they were still subjugated to the whims of Heaven and Hell, they could never truly have the time they wanted with one another. 

No, Aziraphale refused to leave their encounter like this. He pulled Crowley back to him and kissed him, his free hand tangling in his hair. 

Crowley was stiff for a moment. Then he brought his free hand up to Aziraphale’s cheek, swiping his thumb across the pad across the cheekbone. Tilting his head for a better angle, he slipped his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth and kissed him deeply. 

Aziraphale felt his knees go weak. Crowley’s tongue always made him feel lightheaded with what it could do. 

There was another tingle in the back of his head. Heaven was getting impatient. With a sigh, he pulled away. 

“Next time, my dear.” He pecked Crowley on the lips (careful to make sure there was no tongue. He’d never leave if Crowley used his wicked tongue on him). He made his way down to the ground and turned one last time to look at his beloved. Crowley blew him a kiss before sliding down the opposite side. 

Maybe one day they could truly be together. Retirement was always an option, though Aziraphale had never heard of an angel or a demon retiring. Still, he had work to do. Blessings to perform. Miracles to… miracle. Hopefully, it would be a quick mission and he could meet up with Crowley later. As for now, he took one last deep inhale of the positive emotions that filled the air and began walking. Another moment in history completed.


End file.
